"There are more ways of killing a cat than by choking it with
cream," he quoted, "but I'm not sure," he added, "that it's not
the best way."




THE UNREST-CURE



0n the rack in the railway carriage immediately opposite Clovis
was a solidly wrought travelling-bag, with a carefully written
label, on which was inscribed, "J. P. Huddle, The Warren,
Tilfield, near Slowborough." Immediately below the rack sit the
human embodiment of the label, a solid, sedate individual,
sedately dressed, sedately conversational. Even without his
conversation (which was addressed to a friend seated by his side,
and touched chiefly on such topics as the backwardness of Roman
hyacinths and the prevalence of measles at the Rectory), one could
have gauged fairly accurately the temperament and mental outlook
of the travelling bag's owner. But he seemed unwilling to leave
anything to the imagination of a casual observer, and his talk
grew presently personal and introspective.

"I don't know how it is," he told his friend, "I'm not much over
forty, but I seem to have settled down into a deep groove of
elderly middle-age. My sister shows the same tendency. We like
everything to be exactly in its accustomed place; we like things